Legacy
by FlutterFan92
Summary: Eragon and Saphira have begun their journey to find a new land, but they're surprised when their quest ends much sooner than expected. The island is perfect-almost too perfect. As they begin to rebuild the legacy of the Riders and dragons, a dark, vengeful force is gathering in the world, one that threatens the lives of both the old and new Riders.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _This is it, Saphira,_ Eragon said as he leaned forward in the saddle. The cool ocean breezetousled his hair, blowing it across his young, handsome, elven face. _The next great adventure in our lives unfolds._

Saphira snorted. Smoke curled out of her nostrils and streamed back against the wind. Eragon's eyes watered and he leaned closer down against her neck to shield his face. _That's one way to put it, little one. But after all we've done, this should be easy._

Eragon shook his head. His stomach was rolling with anxiety. _I've never taught anyone before, Saphira. What if I mess up? What if I unknowingly create the next Galbatorix? Or Morzan, for that matter?_

 _We won't mess up._

 _How do you know?_

 _Because we know what not to do. Besides, we found ourselves in the heat of battle, through trials and tribulations that the new Riders won't have to face. We just have to remember our lessons._

 _Is that so?_

 _Yes. Besides, we have help._

He glanced down at the ship bobbing in the ocean below them, the ship carrying the elves, eggs, and Eldunari. _Yes, we do._

Shortly after leaving Arya, Roran, and everything else familiar behind, the ship had followed the flowing river for several leagues. Eragon and Saphira had been surprised when the river had gradually widened, until finally it had met the sea. They had thought that it would be a longer journey to the opposite ocean, but here they were, less than two days later, drifting along the open sea.

 _Doesn't it overwhelm you? Having this much responsibility, I mean._

Saphira beat her wings faster, and Eragon clutched one of her neck spikes. _Of course not. We've had the world settled on our shoulders since the day I hatched. One would think you'd be used to it by now._

He laughed a little at that and patted her side. Her rough, glittering azure scales stung his ungloved hand a little. _One would think, right?_ He grew serious again. _I'm not complaining, Saphira. Of course not. I'm just scared._

 _Don't be,_ Saphira said gently as she tipped her wings and tilted slightly to the side to avoid a particularly aggressive gust of wind. _We'll do what we always have—our absolute best._

They flew in silence, and Eragon gazed upon the empty horizon. His heart was extraordinarily heavy in his chest, and in Saphira he felt the same emotions, although she'd said nothing. He missed Arya so badly that his chest ached. Against his will, he thought about how different it would have been if she'd abandoned her duties and joined him in his quest for a new land. It tore him up inside to think that he'd never see her again.

 _Enough,_ Saphira chided him, although not unkindly. _We made our choice months ago, and we couldn't ask her to abandon her people._

 _I know._ He fell silent, and although he could tell Saphira wanted to keep talking about it, she didn't pursue the matter.

Instead she said, _When do you think we'll find land?_

 _I don't know, any more than I know what awaits us when we finally do._

Murtagh sighed as he warmed his hands by the fire. His bones were as cold as ice after riding high in the clouds on Thorn's back. A part of him welcomed the discomfort. His experiences with Galbatorix, the constant longing for Nasuada, his own confused feelings about the recent war, and the departure of his only brother gnawed at his mind. He felt as if he might go mad. He had no plan other than to eat and rest. He and Thorn had spent over six months in the wilderness, making camp in a different spot every night. He was restless and desperate to find some sort of purpose, some worth goal to pursue. His self-imposed exile was seeming less like a good idea by the minute.

 _Oh, give it a rest,_ Thorn grumbled, albeit good-naturedly. He lazily opened one eye and lifted his head off his forelegs. He was stretched lazily by the fire, taking up most of the clearing. His already crimson scales burned in the firelight. He yawned, revealing long ivory fangs. _You know we did the right thing. We don't belong with them._

Murtagh grunted. He stared into the fire. His eyes burned and he longed to look away, but he forced himself to continue his gaze. _Will we ever?_

 _That's neither here nor there, isn't it?_

Murtagh sighed. _You're right._

 _Of course,_ Thorn agreed. He shifted his position, lying on his side and lifting his wing. Murtagh leaned against Thorn's chest, listening to the dragon's low and steady breathing. _At least,_ Thorn continued, _we are now free. It's a wonderful thing! We have our minds to ourselves and we can go where we please. You have tasted the sweetness of freedom before; I have not. For the first time in my life, I have no duties or obligations, outside of ensuring you don't get caught up in any more bloody battles with elves and family members._

Murtagh laughed out loud for the first time. His loud, hearty laughter boomed around the clearing. Frightened birds took wing as his merriment shook the leaves in the tall oak trees. _Oh yes,_ he chuckled. _Because I actually_ wanted _that to happen._

 _You are an odd one,_ Thorn agreed humorously. _In the meantime, please refrain from starting any more wars in the next few years. I want to relax._

Murtagh threw a stick into the fire, still smiling grimly. _I didn't start it, I helped to end it._

Thorn snorted with amusement and kneaded the ground with his razor-sharp claws. _Enough of this nattering. We're free! The war is over, the wilderness is ours for the taking, the dragons shall soon roam the skies once more, and best of all, the king is dead. You should be celebrating, not moping._

The smile slipped from Murtagh's face like water on glass. He closed his eyes and let the sorrow, the ever-present grief that he had tried to hold back since they left Uru'Baen, wash over him. He felt Thorn recoil slightly in his mind as he shared his Rider's pain. _Forgive me, heart-friend. I didn't mean to make light of your anguish._

 _I miss her so much. I failed her. I know this is the right thing to do. She deserves better than me._ Murtagh curled up against Thorn's side. _It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Except you, of course._

 _Enough,_ growled Thorn. He leaped to his feet, spilling Murtagh on the ground, who cursed and picked himself up from the dust. He glowered at the red dragon, but his retort died on his lips as the scarlet eyes met his own. _Enough of this. I'm not going to sit here and let you drive yourself mad with these dark thoughts. What's done is done; you cannot change it. You did not fail anyone. You did your part, you saved her and all of Alagaesia, what more could you ask for? You knew the second I hatched for you that the two of you could not be together. Why do you insist to torture yourself so? She is happy.. Can you not let that be enough?_

Murtagh gazed at the ground. _You're right. And I will be okay. I just need to grieve._

 _Then grieve, my friend, but worry not; you don't have to grieve alone. I'm here. And when your mourning begins to heal the wounds in your soul, so we shall press on, for it's the two of us against the world._

And so Murtagh cried, clinging to his one true friend as he did.

Arya bit back a sigh and rubbed her temples. Immediately a swarm of concerned elves surrounded her, offering healing spells and poultices for her headache. She declined as politely as she could and watched them resume their seats at the banquet table, of which she sat at the head. The soft sunlight filtered through the leaves of the enchanted trees, bathing all that were present in the glade with warmth and light. Elves with flutes and other instruments were playing a haunting melody, and the music along with the smell of the food was making her head swim. She glanced along the table, again aware of all the slanted eyes on her, and was again puzzled.

 _I can never walk more than a few feet without a grand procession trailing behind me. They cater to my every whim like I am an infant. I don't understand; they never treated my mother in such a way. Is it because I am her daughter, or because I am young? Hah! I've seen more hardships than perhaps even my mother. I am not a child._

 _Peace,_ Firnen advised her from his position behind her chair. He received even more attention than the elf queen, but his initial delight had also worn away into weariness, although he still found satisfaction now and again from the constant service. He shifted slightly, and Arya could tell that he was getting impatient with the feast. He was still very young, after all, and he yearned to fly and hunt. _It is neither. You are their queen, yes, but you are also a Rider—the first Rider monarch to ever grace this hall. Also, you are the first elven Rider since Oromis. We may be immortal, but a hundred years is no small time. You cannot blame them for being excited._

 _It's been months since I took the throne, Firnen. I am not a decorative figurehead, I am a leader. For goodness' sake, I've been back in Du Weldenvarden for three hours and I already have to attend another feast!_

The emerald dragon chuckled deep in his throat. _I think you have been away from your own kind for too long. This is what elves do._

Arya allowed a small smile to curve her lips. _And what of dragons, what do they do?_

Firnen licked his talons. _Whatever we damn well please, of course._

 _I cannot argue with that,_ Arya admitted with amusement. _About how much longer do you think we should be expected to sit here?_

 _I hope that chair of yours is comfortable, Shur'tugal._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The guard narrowed his eyes at the dark alleyway. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It had been a long night, and his eyes were probably just playing tricks on him. He gave the alleyway a final long look before he rejoined the back of his patrol moving steadily south through the city of Ilirea.

Karliah breathed a sigh of relief. She eased herself along the wall that she was pressed against and felt around until she found the old familiar handle sticking out from the small wooden door. Readjusting her grip on the small sack, she swung the door open and entered the building.

She took a deep breath and shook away the last of her fear from the night's excursions. She brushed back a lock of long black hair from her face and adjusted her dark gray dress. Gray was one of her favorite colors. It may be plain, but it was a perfect color for one who hides in the shadows.

The room she was in was plain and bare, but perfectly clean—almost intimidatingly so. She remembered this room well from the time she'd stayed there years ago, and it still brought a shudder of loathing down her spine. She dropped the sack on a scrubbed wooden table, and quietly knocked three times on the hard surface.

Five small, pale, hungry faces peered around a doorframe. The children's eyes lit up with joy, and they rushed towards Karliah, squealing. She shushed them and glanced towards the area where she knew the matron was sleeping. The door remained closed.

She hugged each of the children, noting how thin they were with a pang of sorrow. She nodded her head towards the sack. "It was a good haul last night. There should be plenty to last for a couple of days. Hide it under the loose board under the fourth bed, remember?"

The children silently nodded in agreement. Anna, the smallest child and the only girl, looked up at Karliah with solemn brown eyes. "Are there any sweets?" she whispered hopefully.

Karliah smiled. "Maybe. And just maybe there might be a new dress for you, and clothes for the boys too." The children looked at each other gleefully. "Just remember," Karliah warned, "if she asks, the clothes were given to you while you were begging. And try to act like you're getting nothing to eat but that slop she gives you that I wouldn't even give to a dog. Promise?"

"We promise," the children echoed quietly.

Karliah nodded and smiled. She quickly hugged the children one last time and departed through the alleyway. As she walked swiftly down the narrow streets, she recalled the children's glee.

It was wonderful, she reflected, a child's gratitude. It warmed her heart knowing that she was able to make life a little easier for the children at the orphanage. She wished that she had had someone to do the same for her during her many years there in her childhood.

The shops were just beginning to open up and she hastened towards a general goods shop in the heart of the city, a shop that she knew well and visited often. As she walked, she marveled at how clean and safe the city had become since Nasuada had taken the throne. It was wonderful. The increased guard patrols and general uplift of morale meant that less of the nobles and shopkeepers paid very much attention to personal security—a very good thing for an opportunistic thief.

The door of the general goods shop was wide open. Karliah forced a smile and entered. She nodded politely to the shopkeeper, a young man she had never seen before. "Hello, sir," she said, a little puzzled. "Might I ask where Felton is?"

The young man gave Karliah a pleasant smile. She felt a flicker of unease when she noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes. Then it passed, and she chastised herself for reading too much into nothing. "Felton is feeling a little ill. I'm his nephew, Garth. He asked me to fill in in his absence. How may I be of assistance?"

Karliah blinked. She wasn't sure about this man. He seemed sharper than old Felton. He had better eyesight, at least, and he would be harder to trick. Perhaps she should find another shop.

"I think you should know, milady," Garth said smoothly, interrupting her thoughts, "that we just recently got a shipment of the finest lace in Alagaesia. It was crafted by the magicians of Du Vangr Gata themselves. It's only a silver for a spool."

Karliah's mind raced. She had heard tales of the lace; how its sales almost single-handedly funded the Varden during the war, and she'd heard of its almost legendary quality. She longed for some of her own. She could sew some onto some plain dresses and sell them for twice the amount they were worth.

But he was only charging a silver. It was perfect…almost too perfect. She bit her lip, uneasy, and took a deep breath.

"Actually, I came in here for some fabric. I am sewing a new dress."

"I'm sorry, madam, we are all out of cloth."

Karliah raised her eyebrows. All out of cloth? That was odd. Garth nodded. "My uncle is old, as I'm sure you're aware of. He forgot to make the order."

She sighed. "Of course," she grumbled. She turned to leave the shop. "Madam, wait!" Garth called. "Are you sure you don't want to buy some lace? I'll make it two for a silver."

Karliah paused, uncertain. She was getting an unpleasent sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she was a woman who tended to trust her instincts. However, it was an exceptional bargain…and she did happen to have just the right amount. She made her decision. She turned back around and nodded. "I suppose I will. Two spools, please."

Garth looked very relieved. She began to relax a little and pulled out her coin purse from a pocket in her dress as Garth reached beneath the wooden counter. She pulled out the only coin—a silver—and weighed it in her hand, pleased as always with her handiwork. It looked and felt real.

He placed the lace on the counter. Karliah gathered it in her hands and handed Garth the silver. "Thank you, sir. I hope you have a pleasant day," she said hurriedly, and began to walk briskly towards the door. It was almost as if she knew what was going to happen a split second before it did, and was only partially surprised when she felt a hand roughly grab her arm. She slowly turned around to find herself face to face with the man, who looked very pleased with himself.

"Well," he said quietly. "It seems as if you truly can't lead a horse to water, but you can lead a woman to buy lace. Thief."

Karliah bit back her trepidation and looked Garth straight in the eye, hoping that she appeared both confident and fierce. "I don't know what you're talking about. Release me," she commanded.

"Oh, I think you do," Garth said slowly. He reached out his other hand and revealed the silver coin she had given him. He said a word in a strange language, a word which sent a ripple of unease down Karliah's back. The word seemed to echo in her mind, although she had no idea what it meant. The ancient language. Magic. Suddenly, she was afraid.

The coin shimmered in his hand, and a light dust of silver paint (which she made with powdered fish scales and certain plants) fell from the coin, and it laid in his hand, a dull circle of iron.

Karliah's heart clenched. Garth smiled. "By the orders of Queen Nasuada, and under my authority as newly appointed Watch Captain, I hereby place you under arrest for theft, deception, and forgery."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Nasuada closed her eyes. Without opening them, she asked the man standing before her, "How many?"

"Too many to fit into the cells, Your Highness. Before long we shall have to release prisoners, build another dungeon, or perform executions."

Her eyes flew open at that. "You know how I feel about that. Absolutely not, save for those who unquestionably deserve it." The man nodded, slightly abashed.

She waved a hand at him. "I'll think on the matter, as should you. Tell your men to do the same, and come to me if any of you think of a solution. This is a unique situation and not a matter to be taken lightly. Now begone."

"Yes, ma'am." The guard bowed and left. Nasuada frowned. It was indeed a dilemma. Overcrowded prisons were to be expected, of course, in the aftermath of such a large war. Even months after Galbatorix's death, there were still traitors, murderers, assassins, and others that were still loyal to the evil king that threatened to undermine everything Nasuada and the Varden represented and had fought for.

On top of the normal criminals, the prison in Ilirea (and prisons in most of the country) were all but bursting at the seams. The minor criminals could always be simply fined and released, but what would that solve? People who committed petty crimes rarely had the coin to pay for much of anything, let alone fines. Executions were also out of the question. A second prison could always be built, but Nasuada would rather avoid such a drastic measure.

What to do?

It was exceedingly filthy, and Karliah wrinkled her nose as the guard roughly pushed her in front of him. They descended down a set of stone steps, and Karliah narrowed her eyes, adjusting to the harsh light of the torches on the walls. They were lined with prison cells, and each cell was crammed with shouting men. The stench from their unwashed bodies was almost unbearable, as was the clamor that they were making. It echoed in the stone dungeon. "Walk faster," her jailor grunted, and Karliah bit back a retort. It did not seem wise to antagonize him at this point.

He led her down to the last cell on the left. The occupants in this one were entirely female; from what she could tell, mostly prostitutes, whose choice trade had recently been made illegal by the queen. Noble, but as Karliah herself could attest to, some professions were hard to leave once begun. The women all looked at their new cellmate with hollow eyes.

"Right," the guard said as he shoved the young woman inside and drew the bars back in place, "This is where you'll be staying until further notice. Meals come once a day. Water bucket over there. Privy bucket in opposite corner." Karliah drew in a breath of air and instantly regretted it. She was poor, always had been, but she was also very fastidious. She dreaded the moment when she would have to use the bucket in front of the other women. "Mind the guards, and we want no trouble, hear? You'll only make your situation worse." He spit on the floor, and with that unsavory gesture, departed, whistling merrily as he strode down the stone hallway.

Karliah glanced around the room. Most of the women paid her no attention after the guard left, instead returning to their previous actions, such as blankly staring at the wall, shouting to be released, or (in one elderly woman's case) sobbing loudly and rocking back and forth on the dirty stone floor.

Karliah sighed. Ever since she was a little girl, she had resorted to thievery to survive, and then, later, to improve the lives of the children at the orphanage. Never had she taken from anyone who didn't have enough to make do, and never before had she been caught. She felt diminished, unsure of herself, and above all else, frightened. She wondered what would become of her. With a jolt, she remembered the children and was suddenly more afraid for them than for herself. Who would watch after them and feed them, if not her? She seated herself on a wooden bench nailed to the wall, curled into a small ball, and drifted away in an ocean of her own misery.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _This is it, Firnen. It's time to see if Eragon's plan will unite us or destroy us._

 _Are you really that uncertain?_ Firnen asked the elf queen. He lifted his wings away from his body so that she could place the saddle on his back. _It seems the best course of action to me. The races will forever be unbalanced if any two have domain over the others._

Arya scowled. It was a rare expression for her. She carefully gathered the two eggs Eragon had given her and placed them in separate padded boxes. As she opened Firnen's saddlebag to place them inside, she absentmindedly ran her hand over the enchanted mirror Eragon had given her. He had placed a spell upon it so that whenever he scryed her through the mirror, a second spell would alert her of his presence. So far, nothing. As she expected; she was sure he wouldn't find a place to settle for quite some time. Still, she worried.

She placed the boxes in Firnen's saddlebag and uttered protective enchantments around it to ward off thieves and protect the eggs from being jostled around. _Of course it's necessary. I just don't like it._ Firnen twisted his head around and looked at her. As always, she felt a little uncomfortable when he scrutinized her like that. An amused smile lifted her lips. The surprises of being joined with a dragon never ceased, it seemed. Only her partner could make her feel like a precocious child. _You think I'm being unreasonable._

 _A bit,_ Firnen admitted. _We are about to do something that's never been done before. Even I, who have yet to live over half a year, feel as if the old ways, to a point, are over. The best thing we can do is try to uphold the old teachings of the Riders, while making room for changes best suited to our situation. For instance, should the new Riders come to Ellesmera and train with us, or should we find another place best suited for all the races?_

Arya sighed. _I don't know. I suppose we should train them here, for it is secluded, and they will not have to remain with us for long. Remember, they are joining Eragon once they are deemed ready. But Firnen, I am uneasy about the Urgals. Dwarves are similar enough to humans that it should be, if not easy, at least bearable to work with. But Urgals? Most everyone still does not feel comfortable with the thought of them being part of normal society. And I cannot say that I blame them. Although by all means they should not be destroyed, it would be best for them to remain where they are, in the Spine and on the fringes of civilization. Urgals, while more intelligent and compassionate than we originally gave them credit for, are wild, destructive, and not one to follow rules, at least not for very long._

 _Little one,_ Firnen said gently, using Saphira's pet name for Eragon—which sent a chill down Arya's back, along with a pang of sorrow that she sought to hold deep inside at all times— _from what I've been told, and from what I know from memories, the very same was said about the wild dragons. Look at me, heart- friend._ Arya obliged. _Look at US. This bond is like no other. We are one, you and I, although blood and birth would dictate otherwise. Look at what we've done, which is absolutely nothing to what we WILL do. This bond…it changes us. It gentles us._

Arya smiled. _Of course it does._

 _Who is to say_ , Firnen continued, _that_ _it will not do the same for the Urgals? I do not think Eragon doomed us to another war by including the Urgals and dwarves in the blood-oath, as you seem to half-think. I can see it in your mind, Arya, even if you dare not give voice to it._

 _I trust Eragon's judgement,_ Arya said firmly in the ancient language.

 _I know, Arya. Let us put aside such topics for now. We have much to do._

Arya straightened her tunic. Her former determination had returned. _Absolutely._

The green dragon snorted. Arya strode towards him and stroked the side of his face, gazing into his eye. She held back the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Would she never tire of being a Rider? Being joined with this amazing creature, always having someone to call friend…

Never being alone…

 _Thank you, Firnen._ He hummed in response, and Arya smiled.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _Saphira!_ Eragon shouted excitedly. He leaned forward in the saddle and squinted. It couldn't be. They had only been at sea for three days, most of which Eragon had spent flying with Saphira, avoiding the ship below as much as possible. The tossing of the ship made him nauseous, even with preventive spells, and the elves were growing just as restless. Even so, all he had heard of the land east to Alagaesia had caused him to believe that the other continent was much farther out, at least a week's journey. _Do you think..?_

 _It sure seems so, little one,_ she replied, although he sensed her excitement also. _But wasn't it supposed to be farther away, and a more strenuous journey at that? Jeod spoke of whirlpools and jagged rocks and rough currents. We have yet to come across any of those._

 _It surprises me too. Let us go look; we can outstrip the vessel and be there quicker than they._ With her unspoken agreement, he reached out to Blodhgarm with his mind. He felt the elf's consciousness in seconds.

 _What is that ahead, Shur'tugal?_ The furred elf asked

 _We're not sure. It's definitely land. Saphira and I will fly ahead and scout it out._

 _Be careful, Shadeslayer,_ the elf whispered. _Strange lands hold strange things._

 _We will._

Twenty minutes later, Saphira dipped out of the heavy mist that surrounded the island and slowly began to circle in the sky. Eragon's initial disappointment gave away to glee. _I think this is it, Saphira. This is…this is perfect._

 _It certainly seems so. But why was this not in any recordings? It's large, and directly on the route to the other continent. It speaks ill. I think we should tread with caution._

Eragon shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable and ready to stretch his legs. _I don't know. Should we go ahead and land, or wait for the ship?_

 _We should certainly wait for the elves,_ she declared. _I sense no other life here save for animals, but there could be danger nonetheless._ He half-heartedly agreed with her. He reigned in his eagerness, although it was difficult.

Before them was an enormous island, stretching out for leagues on either side. It was much larger than Vroengard, although by how much Eragon was uncertain. On the eastern end, gentle granite slopes dotted with firs and bushes gave way to an enormous mountain dotted with natural caves, surrounded by a range of smaller ones. _That would be a perfect spot to raise the dragons,_ Eragon thought.

On the western side, a large lush forest surrounded yet another stone formation, this one an enormous cliff overlooking the beach below, where the waves crashed against yet more rocks. _We could build a structure similar to Vroengard here,_ Eragon told Saphira. _There's shelter and probably lots of wildlife in the forest. With protective enchantments to keep away intruders, it would be ideal to raise the dragons here until they could return to Alagaesia._

 _Not to mention,_ Saphira said with a casual air, _It would be close enough to the mainland that we could easily visit Alagaesia without being gone so long that we would be shirking our duties._

With a jolt, Eragon realized that she was right. He slumped back in the saddle as all his old reasons came rushing back to him. _We can't. Angela's prophecy-_

 _May very well come to nothing,_ she snapped. Eragon recoiled. She normally did not speak to him so sharply _._ Her impatience was overwhelming. _Give me one good, concrete reason, Eragon. None? Exactly. We may never live in Alagaesia again, but must you sequester yourself for no purpose other than to fulfill some vision?_

Eragon bowed his head. _I..I will think about it._

 _First things first,_ another voice said, and with a rush of guilt Eragon realized that he had partially blocked his thoughts from Glaedr and the other Eldunari, _we must ensure that this place is fit for the dragons and Riders._ Eragon sensed the gold dragon's own, albeit subdued, interest. _It certainly looks okay from the air, but who knows what lies within? Best to return to the elves and explore the island together._ Countless whispers echoed in Eragon's mind as the Eldunari agreed.

 _Of course, Master,_ Eragon and Saphira said, and with one last glance at the island, changed course for the elves and the bobbing ship.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Blodhgarm's eyes slid over the surroundings, from the pebbly beach to the great forest ahead, to the enormous granite formation above them, and finally to the great mountains in the distance. The other elves gathered around him, whispering to themselves and examining their surroundings. The ship was anchored in the sea nearby, where the Eldunari (save for Glaedr, who was currently nestled in Saphira's saddlebag), the eggs, and two other elves waited, guarding the precious cargo. Eragon waited patiently in front of Blodhgarm while Saphira scouted the air above.

"It seems safe, Shadeslayer." Blodhgarm finally announced, much to Eragon's relief. The furred elf had spent the last two hours casting spells to reveal treachery, as well as counterspells to find any existing spells that might have been cast in the island. He had found none. "We will have to explore the island in full to determine its security completely, but for the time being I am satisfied." He bared his fangs in a wide smile. "Do you feel that this is the place?"

"I do."

The elf nodded. "The mountains will be good for the wild dragons, until we may relocate them to their homeland. Some may even choose to remain here. As for the Riders, we shall have to hurry to build accommodations. I'm assuming you want to build a city, something akin to Vroengaurd?"

"Yes. Maybe not something quite as large at first, but we can always add more. The cliff seems spacious enough, and we can always expand to the forest below."

"That it does, Shadeslayer." The elves murmured their agreement. Blodhgarm turned to them and began issuing orders. The elves divided into scouting groups, save for a female elf who made her way back to the ship to fetch supplies. Blodhgarm nodded, apparently satisfied. "They will report back shortly. Do you want to examine the cliff, Shur'tugal?"

Eragon nodded. "I want to see where would be best to begin construction, as well as possible fresh water sources. I want to look at the mountains, too."

"Stay alert. This place seems peaceful, but I do not like how I, nor any of the elves or Eldunari, have heard of its existence."

 _There isn't enough stone. We shall have to transport granite from around the mountain, unless you want to plant trees and sing the buildings from them._

Eragon sighed. _That won't work either. It needs to be both fireproof and sturdy enough to withstand the weight of dragons. You aren't light, you know._

Saphira snorted derisively from beside him. She had spent the past few minutes pacing the enormous length of the cliff and deemed it more than stable. _I suppose we have no choice. Do you think we, combined with the elves and Eldunari, have enough strength to move the stone by magic?_

 _We should, as long as we take plenty of breaks._ Eragon paced the cliff. There was already a large outcropping of stone at the base of the cliff's slope. The slope was gentle enough to allow a road to be built leading down to the bottom. The cliff itself was long and wide enough to allow several buildings, and deer paths already existed in the forest below, which could be widened into actual trails. In addition, Eragon found several clean, freshwater brooks and streams in the forest. It wouldn't take much magical effort to find a way to transport it above. The temperature was pleasant, and the island was secluded. That, along with the elves' protective spells, convinced Eragon that this was the best place for the new Riders.

But trepidation gnawed at Eragon. He glanced at Saphira. _I just can't help but feel tense. This all seems a little too convenient, too perfect._

Saphira hummed. _Little one, the hardest task laid before us since Galbatorix has all but solved itself and you are complaining?_

 _Of course not...but still, I am uneasy._

 _I know._

After bringing word to Blodhgarm that the cliff seemed ideal (and learning more of the surrounding forest from the scouting elves; the presence of a large herd of deer and several fruit trees lightened Eragon's already soaring spirits), Eragon and Saphira set out to the mountain.

Again, Eragon felt a trickle of unease mar his joy. The mountain was also perfect. There were narrow, shallow caves below, with pine trees almost conveniently placed in front for cover for the newly hatched dragons. There were larger caves above, and as Saphira demonstrated, this particular type of stone was very hard to melt. He was unsure whether this was the work of some powerful force at hand, or sheer dumb luck.

 _Either way,_ Saphira said with a hint of smugness, _there is no turning back now. The elves are making preparations as we speak._ She nodded towards a particularly large cave above them. _That one is large enough for all the wild dragon eggs we brought with us; look at the angle to the sea wind. It will be warm, and I can heat up one of the walls with my fire to give them even more warmth. I will do the same for the Rider's eggs until such a time when we may build them a hatchery. And as for me…_ she glanced at another large cave. _That one will do nicely._ She jumped then, spreading her enormous wings and taking flight.

 _Saphira!_ He shouted, waving his arms at her from the base of the mountain. She darted into the cave and he shook his head. _You're not making any sense. Do you expect me to live in a cave until the building is complete? I assumed we were going to make camp with the elves._

 _You won't be in here. At any rate, it's not until later._

Her reply stung him. _We've never slept apart unless we've had to._

 _It's not for sleeping, silly._ Underneath her mental voice Eragon felt a sense of excitement, along with a touch of nervousness. Her emotions confused Eragon. Saphira had rarely, if ever, felt anxious. He placed a fist on his hip and glanced in the dragon's general direction.

 _Saphira, what are you talking about?_

She poked her head from the mouth of the cave and surveyed her surroundings. _It is ideal. It's high enough to be out of reach of predators—not that any would dare bother us—and large. Not to mention,_ she deliberately looked away from Eragon, _plenty of materials nearby to make a nest._

 _A nest…_ realization flooded Eragon and he grinned. How could he have not seen this coming? Saphira and Firnen and spent plenty of time together, after all. _Saphira, that's wonderful! How do you feel? How long have you known? Do you know how many? Are you-_

She interrupted his questions with an amused chuckle. _I've known since soon after we left Du Weldenvarden, little one._

Eragon smiled. He felt from Saphira unbridled joy, protectiveness, anticipation, and a deep instinctual urge that he could not place. _How long?_ He asked.

 _I'm not sure,_ Saphira admitted. _I will know, however._

A practical question presented itself to Eragon. _What will you do?_

 _What?_

 _Will you let the egg hatch on its own or give it to the Riders?_

Confusion emanated from Saphira's mind, which she immediately closed off to Eragon except for the thread of consciousness that allowed communication. _I...I do not know. I love you, but do not ask me again, please. It is something I must come to on my own._

 _I understand,_ Eragon said gently, and said no more on the matter.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Nasuada eagerly hastened towards her chambers, a grimace barely hidden from her face. It had seemed like the day would never come to an end. Countless duties required her attention, from trivial matters like guard rotations in the city and livestock prices that needed adjusting, to matters of security, and of course, the regulation of the magicians in the nation. This above all others was the most draining to her. She hadn't fully realized just how many people (magicians all, of course) would be angered by her suggestion.

Still lost in thought, she reached her chamber door and nodded to her guards. "Evening," she said.

"Your Majesty," one of the guards replied. "Not five minutes ago you were requested in the mirror room. The page said it was Eragon."

The queen's heart raced. So soon? She had not expected Eragon to arrive at his destination for quite some time. Thanking the guard, she hurried to the small room down the hall, where she had placed the enchanted mirror used to communicate with the Rider. The room was protected by wards to prevent eavesdropping, along with another six guards standing watch outside the door.

She entered the room, Elva trailing along behind her. Nasuada was initially startled by the girl's appearance-she didn't even know Elva was behind her- but her surprise quickly faded. She was used to the girl appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Nasuada approached the large mirror on the eastern wall. There stood Eragon's likeness, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He did not seem to be harmed. Nasuada frowned, however, when she saw that Eragon stood on solid land. He seemed to be standing on a beach of some sort, and the elves were gathered behind him.

"Eragon!" she exclaimed, a smile touching her lips. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Are you well? Where are you?"

Eragon folded his arms and grinned in return. She had not seen such joy on his face since Galbatorix's downfall. It was good. However, she noticed that the smile didn't erase all of the sorrow in his eyes. She supposed she might look the same way, however hard she attempted to keep her own pain concealed. "You won't believe this, Your Majesty, but-"

She waved. "Just Nasuada, Eragon. You and I have known each other far too long for such pleasantries."

He nodded, his smile slipping. "Of course."

"Now tell me, how fared your journey? But more importantly, where are you?"

He began to tell her about their discovery, how everything about the island seemed to fall perfectly in place with their needs, and his own unease.

"I know that I should be happy that we found such a place, and I am, but it almost seems too good to be true," he finished. "I just can't shake the feeling that this place was _made_ for us, and I don't know why or by whom. Then there's the fact that I've never heard of it recorded anywhere, despite its closeness to shore." He paused. "Is it possible I may be readingtoo much into coincidence?"

Nasuada pondered his question. "Perhaps…I don't know. My only advice for you at the moment is trust your instincts. Do you think the island is dangerous?"

He slowly shook his head. "Nay, not dangerous, but I'm uneasy just the same."

"I suppose you should continue with your plans to settle there, then. Just keep your wits about you."

Just then Elva, who had so far remained hidden and silent, sidled over to Nasuada's side. Eragon raised his eyebrows but otherwise contained his surprise. "Elva. It's nice to see you. Are you well?"

She nodded, then said flatly, "You're not as alone there as you think, you know."

"What? How do you know? Are we in danger?"

She waved away his questions. "It's just a feeling. I don't think you're in any danger, not yet anyway. Just keep your guard up. Saphira too." With those statements, she promptly melted back into the shadows, concealing herself from the mirror.

Seeing Eragon's now-impassive face, Nasuada nodded. "It's best you heed her warning. Remain there if you wish, but it might be in your best interest to investigate every nook and cranny of the island before any permanent decisions are made."

"Of course."

Rubbing her hands, Nasuada said, "Have you found a suitable location to build on yet?"

Resuming some of his former eagerness, Eragon told her about the cliff. She nodded. "It does indeed sound perfect." Then he told her about the granite on the other side of the mountain.

"Even with the strength of the elves and Eldunari, it will take weeks, maybe even months, to gather enough stone to work with, even for the simplest of dwellings. Which this one won't- can't- be. By the time it's ready for the Riders, it will be a small city." He paused, and Nasuada took her opportunity to voice her thoughts, a plan that had been circulating, half-formed, through her mind the second Eragon told her of the island. Eragon did not even bother to hide his shock this time.

"Lady, it would not work."

"Why not?

"Because the plan was to seclude ourselves," Eragon grumbled. "The elves, Riders, dragons, Saphira and I. I don't think the elves would be very happy with what you're suggesting."

"And they won't have to be. It's only temporary, after all. And it benefits the both of us."

"This is a project best suited for magic alone. They would just get in the way!"

"Not if you and the elves gave them their space, and set aside certain activities for them and them alone."

Eragon scowled. "What about sleeping quarters? Security? The elves and I don't have time to babysit petty criminals."

"Nor will you have to," Nasuada replied calmly. "A full team of guards will accompany them, along with provisions. The prisoners will build their own shelters, far away from you and the elves. They will work for a week to three weeks at a time, depending on their crimes and the progress on construction. Then they may consider themselves free men, and will be shipped back to the mainland. A spellcaster will accompany the guards as extra security. You'll have no trouble."

Eragon frowned. Nasuada was making a very good point; however, he still did not like her idea. "Aren't there other, easily accessible places in the kingdom where they can work off their sentences?"

"Of course. But this will give them a sense of purpose, something to be proud of. Why break rocks or plow fields when you can be building a sanctuary for the next generation of Dragon Riders? The pride they earn in their work may be just enough to keep them out of prison in the future. Eragon, can't you see I have little choice?" Eragon realized that the strain of ruling an entire country, which Nasuada usually kept firmly under control, was beginning to show in her eyes. He frowned, concerned. "The prisons are dangerously overcrowded, I am pushing my resources to the limit trying to keep them clothed and fed, and I cannot simply release the minor criminals. Meanwhile, more dangerous people, the ones who _need_ to be in prison, keep pouring in and I simply do not have enough space. Will you please consider my proposition?"

"Perhaps," Eragon said slowly. He finally nodded. "I will discuss the matter with the others."

"Thank you," Nasuada replied with an audible sigh of relief.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Saphira sniffed. _Your mind is flopping about faster than a beached trout. Stop; it's making me dizzy._

Eragon stared at the ground. _Do you think it's too soon?_

 _It's been almost three days already. Arya has as much right as Nasuada to know the news; maybe more, since she's a Rider. Also, I am curious as to what she'll think of Nasuada's plan._ Saphira's tone grew gentler. _Distancing yourself from her is not the answer, little one. It will only make you bitter. Besides, I know she will want to know that we're safe._

Eragon stroked her side, feeling her rough scales beneath his hand, and nodded. _All right, I will._

Saphira hummed with satisfaction. _Good._

Eragon stretched, his face only partially illuminated with firelight. The elves where seated around a roaring bonfire- save for a scouting party of five that was still exploring the enormous island, which Eragon estimated to be slightly smaller than Palancar Valley. He had informed the elves of Nasuada's idea, and although they had not particularly liked it, they had agreed that it should not be much harm. As long, they had insisted, that it was only temporary and the prisoners had no knowledge of the eggs or Eldunari. Eragon himself was still unsure. Regardless, he and the elves planned to begin construction in the morning.

Right before dusk Blodhgarm had informed him, with uncharacteristic excitement, of a pocket of molten rock he located with magic deep in the heart of the mountain. "It will do wonders for the eggs," he had said. "The heat rising up will keep them warm and comfortable, until it's time to lift the enchantments and allow them to hatch."

This had pleased Eragon.

Positioning himself closer to the firelight, Eragon pulled out the small enchanted mirror out of Saphira's saddlebag and uttered the scrying spell.

A cloud of fog formed inside the mirror's smooth, reflective surface, then solidified into a blank, dark scene. With the spell that allowed him to hear as well as see, Eragon could hear the flapping of wings and a deep, thudding heartbeat. She was flying with Firnen, then.

Eragon waited patiently, sometimes stroking Saphira and other times conversing with the elves. After five minutes or so, the noises emanating from the mirror ceased. There came a rustling sound, firelight flooded the mirror, and then Arya came into view.

Eragon's heart ached with sorrow and longing when he beheld her lovely face, but also a great joy filled his heart. He grinned, and he knew his elation showed. Slowly, she smiled back, and her emerald eyes reflected the firelight as she gazed into his.

She was sitting beside her own campfire, which had obviously been hastily lit. Firnen crouched behind her. From what Eragon could see of him in the cramped background he still wore his saddlebags, and it pleased Eragon to know that she had not even bothered to unpack before contacting him.

"Eragon!" Arya exclaimed. "I hadn't expected to hear from you for a while." Concern replaced the joy on her face. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, Arya. We're all right. Excellent, actually."

She looked relieved. "That is good." Her eyebrows creased in confusion. "Where are you?"

He began to explain to her how they had chanced upon the island, its ideal conditions (other than the issue with building materials) and how they seemed to strike him as odd, their plans of construction, and the mountains and forest. "It's a very large island," he finished. "I just find it strange that I've never heard of it before, nor seen it on any map. It's close enough to the mainland that it must have been discovered before."

"It certainly is perplexing," Arya agreed. He could tell she was concerned and puzzled. "But, it seems as if it's safe enough. With magical barriers to deflect any non-magician intruders, as well as a wall, perhaps…Are the elves satisfied?"

"We are, Arya Drottning," Blodgharm said from his spot near the fire. The other elves nodded, and from their expressions Eragon sensed their longing to speak with their queen, but they remained respectfully silent.

"Well, then," Arya declared, "I support your decision." She paused and frowned again. "Although I, as well, find this place odd…but no matter." Her eyes lit up, although the smile didn't touch her lips. "When do you plan to have the place ready for the Riders?"

Eragon paused. "I'm not sure. We're planning to begin in the morning, but I don't know how quickly it will progress. I guess it depends on whether or not I accept Nasuada's offer."

"What offer? Nasuada has not mentioned anything to me."

Eragon reached across to his pack and pulled out a waterskin. He drank, using the pause to his advantage as he pondered the best way to answer her question. As he did, he noticed Firnen had positioned himself behind Arya, trying to see into the mirror. Eragon placed the waterskin behind him and waved at the emerald dragon, who blinked in return.

Hoping that Arya wouldn't react too harshly, Eragon said, "Since the island is within sailing distance to Alagaesia, Nasuada wants to send prisoners here to help with the labor. It would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak; it would allow the criminals to work off their sentences while helping us as well. I'm not sure how I feel about it; the plan was to isolate ourselves in order to raise the dragons. The unbonded eggs will be hatching soon, and I don't want humans around when that happens."

Arya looked thoughtful. "As long as they leave when the structure is complete, and as long as they are away from you, the elves, and the eggs and Eldunari, I see no harm. Remember, Eragon, our previous plans no longer apply. You are closer to the mainland then we thought you would be. You're a hero, and once more eggs hatch and you can officially claim the title, the leader of the Riders. With those accomplishments, you can't assume that everyone will leave you alone when you're a mere three day's trip away!"

Eragon nodded, humbled. "I know. I'm just trying to do the best I can." By the expression in her eyes, he could see that she got his meaning; not even two years as a Rider, and already so much was expected of him. He hated to admit to himself, but he'd almost been looking forward to a break from people. _I should have guessed,_ he thought. But he pushed the selfish notions from his mind.

Arya seemed to relax. "I know. May I ask, when do you plan to hatch the wild eggs?"

"As soon as everything falls into place, and the human prisoners leave, the elves will lift the enchantments that keep them from hatching." He began to explain his plans. "Most of the Eldunari with us were from wild dragons. We plan to leave most of them with the hatchlings, so they can guide them as they seem fit. Once they grow older, Saphira can fly with them to the Spine, Beors, and Du Weldenvarden in isolated places, to rebuild the wild populations." He paused. "Is that agreeable?"

"It is," Arya said. "Just be cautious. Time is ever so always our enemy. We must get everything ready for the wild dragons and the Riders, while ensuring that the hatchlings do not remain in their eggs for too long. We are young, Eragon, so young compared to the Riders of old, and here we are, already ushering in a new generation."

He nodded, unsure what to say. Searching for a topic of conversation, he asked. "Where are you?"

"Firnen and I," she said, "are on our way to Farthen Dur. The dwarves are in an uproar. They were beginning to settle back into their old routines after Galbatorix was killed; and then you added them to the dragon's pact. Some of them are overjoyed; others, furious. Orik was of the opinion that perhaps Firnen and I should make an appearance to quell their fears and speak to them; explain to them that this is in the best interest for their race."

Eragon lowered his gaze. "You think I made the wrong decision."

"Of course not," she said gently. "I just think it will be a while for everyone to get used to. In any case, we have the eggs with us, and as soon as you feel that everything is in order, we will begin exposing the dwarves to the eggs. We'll do the same with the Urgals." She paused. "I must admit, I'm a little nervous as to how the Urgal Riders will affect the balance of things, but I trust you and your ability to show them the right path, along with the rest of the Riders."

Eragon felt the first thread of nervousness. _Do not worry,_ Glaedr said. Eragon jumped, unaware that the golden dragon had been listening on his conversation. _I, along with Umaroth and the others, will assist you. You won't have to teach the Riders on your own._

 _Thank you, Ebrithal,_ Eragon said. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with the newest responsibilities he knew he would quickly have to undertake, but it was comforting to know that, with the elves and Eldunari, he had centuries of wisdom to guide him on the right path.

After that, he enquired of the goings-on in Alagaesia. Arya had nothing to report, other than the fact that Nasuada was quickly winning favor across the country. "Other than the magician's anger at her attempting to control them, and Galbatorix's few remaining supporters, she seems to have no opposition."

"That is good." Eragon paused, and gathered his courage. Awkwardly aware that the elves were listening, Eragon said, "Arya, does this change anything?" His heart beat fast in his chest as he gauged her reaction and waited for her response, and he felt sick with longing.

Arya hesitated. "Well…this is more than I hoped for. We made decisions in accordance with the fact that you and Saphira would be far away. Now, however, it seems as if it was all for naught." She smiled. "Firnen and I would be more than happy to visit. Perhaps, before we begin looking for Riders amongst the dwarves, we can take a break from our duties in order to come."

Eragon cleared his throat and tried to smile; his emotions were so overwhelming that he could hardly believe that he might see her again, and soon. "I would love that," he said in the ancient language.

"As would I," she replied in the same way. "In any case, we all have much to do. I've scarcely had a break since I left Elesmera."

They continued talking for a while, Arya speaking to Blodgharm briefly about various goings-on back in Du Weldenvarden. After she resumed speaking to Eragon, she paused and said, with a small apologetic smile, "Firnen would like to see Saphira, is that all right?"

Eragon was about to reply when a bump from Saphira's head nearly unseated him as she twisted her neck to see into the mirror. A musical tinkling of laughter arose from the elves, and Eragon heard Arya laugh as well.

 _Sorry,_ Saphira said distractedly. She gazed into the mirror at the emerald dragon, then said, _Will you tell them for me?_

Eragon grinned. For a moment he had forgotten. "Of course. Arya, Firnen, Saphira is expecting eggs!"

Firnen did not roar with joy, as Eragon expected, but his eyes grew soft, and an odd expression came upon his scaly face. He hummed loud enough for the entire camp to hear, and Arya's eyes filled with tears of joy, although she brushed them aside fairly quickly. She smiled, and her eyes were alight with pride. "That's very good news indeed," she said enthusiastically. "To bring forth young is the greatest honor anyone could have. And it brings us one step closer to the restoration of the dragons in full." She paused. "It'll be awhile yet before she's ready to lay her egg-or eggs, as the case may be- but this is certainly a joyous occasion."

Afterwards, Arya and Eragon talked for a few more minutes, until she said gently, "It is late, and Firnen is tired from flying. We should get some rest."

Eragon nodded, sorry to see her go. "I understand." He cleared his throat. "This is harder than I thought it would be. I miss you." If he had spoken those words before the battle of the Burning Plains, or even before the battle at Uru'baen, he would've been mortified to let so much of his feelings for her slip, or anxious to see her response. Now, however, he was content to simply tell her his feelings and let her respond as she would.

"As I have you," she said softly, and his heart ached. "But now that you're closer than we thought possible, I can take an active role over there with you and the Riders, and you; you can come back to Alagaesia for brief periods, and assist where you are needed. And who knows, in time…" She trailed off.

"But the prophecy-"

"May very well come to naught," she said calmly. "Do you think every prediction, even those we elves make, is set in stone? The only way you will be forced to never return is if you bring it upon yourself to stay away."

"I suppose you're right. It's just a lot to adjust my mind to." They sat in silence, then Eragon said, "I suppose I should let you and Firnen get some rest. Fly safely."

"As you, Eragon Shadeslayer." She touched her lips, and the mirror went dark.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Murtagh swore. _This is as far north as we can go. There's the edge of Du Weldenvarden over there._

Thorn twisted his body in the air, changing his direction west. _I don't think the elves would be too happy to see us,_ he said calmly. His ruby scales caught the light, reflecting it into Murtagh's eyes, which watered in protest. He swiped his sleeve across his face and grimaced.

 _Back to the Spine it is, then._

Thorn growled, and Murtagh sensed within his partner the same impatience that Murtagh himself felt growing within him every day. _We've been all over the Spine, as deep as we can go. We dare not chance upon an Urgal village. I am a dragon; my blood runs hot, and my ancestors lived for centuries without ever clapping eyes on a city. But I'm growing weary of running around in circles. There's got to be something we can do, some purpose that we're meant to serve!_

Murtagh patted his partner's side. _I'm not sure that there is one._

The red dragon stopped flapping his wings and simply glided in midair. _As twisted as Galbatorix was, at least while we were under him we had things to keep us occupied._

Murtagh gritted his teeth. _The wrong things._ He recalled Nasuada's torture in Uru'baen and how he himself had participated, and he felt sick. _If there's one good thing about us secluding ourselves, it's that we can ensure we never become him._

 _Do you think that's even possible?_

Murtagh rubbed his face. His beard scratched his palm. _With how much anger we carry in our hearts, and the power we hold, the power of the True Name? Of course it's possible._ He sighed.

Thorn rumbled underneath him. _Then it's in our best interest to ensure that never happens. But I cannot help feeling discontent. Perhaps it's time we turned our attentions elsewhere. Maybe we could visit the Haderac Desert?_

 _Too hot, too dry,_ Murtagh replied vaguely.

 _I never would have guessed,_ Thorn said with a hint of sarcasm.

 _I guess we won't have much of a choice before too much longer. We could always search for other continents; there's supposed to be one beyond the Beors as well as beyond the ocean. Maybe sometime after-_

A sense of alarm from Thorn made Murtagh stop mid-sentence. _What is that, there in the distance?_

Murtagh squinted. _I don't see anything._

 _Look,_ Thorn insisted, his voice rumbling. Murtagh continued to stare in the direction Thorn had indicated until he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon; a thick column of smoke rising from a clump of trees.

 _A campfire, mayb_ e?

 _Much too large. It's not deep enough in the Spine for Urgals or trappers, and too far in for casual hunting parties._ He snapped his ruby jaws together eagerly. _Perhaps we should check it out._

Murtagh didn't need any urging on, His own curiosity was roused, and he was eager to have something to do, some mystery to solve. Thorn dipped lower in the clouds, and Murtagh cautiously reached out with his mind. He grinned. They were slavers, about thirty of them. There was another mind that Murtagh couldn't quite grasp; it was shielded to him. _Looks like there's the action you were wanting,_ Murtagh said, a hint of bloodthirst entering his mental voice. He despised slavery with every fiber of his being, and with very good reason; hadn't he been a slave nearly his entire life?

 _Are you sure?_

 _Of course. We're doing Alagaesia a favor. How do you want to do this?_

Thorn paused, his uncertainty leaking across the mental link that he shared with his partner. _I don't know. Perhaps we should find out who it is that has their mind blocked from us first._

 _Of course._ Murtagh reached out with his mind to the mind of a man who, from the men around him, he gleaned to be the leader. His lips curled back in a snarl as he learned the identity of the other person. _Bring us in, Thorn. They can burn. I'll cast a spell to shield her, but the rest will never know what hit them._

 _Of course,_ Thorn said eagerly. He rose steadily in the air until he was directly above the camp but out of sight from the slavers.

The leader of the group, a big bear of a man named Reist, was sitting in the middle of the men by the fire; it was huge, more of a bonfire than a campfire, and fed with freshly- cut pine boughs, which explained all the smoke. Murtagh was absorbed in the man's thoughts, growing more disgusted by the minute. His limbs trembled with rage; for all the evil he had seen Galbatorix commit, all the wrongdoings he had seen in the world, he should be immune to the way this injustice affected him. _Galbatorix has committed much worse things in the short span I was with him alone; why does this seem much worse, then?_

After Murtagh absorbed all the details of the slaver's recent plunder, he pulled Zar'roc out of its sheath.

 _What are you getting that out for? I thought I was just going to burn them._

 _Them, yes, but I want to make an example of him first._ He swung his legs over the side of the saddle and uttered the miscarry spells for slowing his progress through the air.

Reist stretched his feet out and crossed his arms. His displeasure was clear. The wandering band of dwarves had surprised him. During Galbatorix's reign, theyhad never been seen out of their mountains. He supposed this group had been heading to Du Weldenvarden, possibly to trade; although why they'd been on this side of the continent, and so close to the Spine, he didn't know. Nor did he care; all he cared about was the fact that his potential slaves had put up much more of a fight than he cared for. He couldn't keep up if snags like this kept cropping up. Ever since the new queen had made slavery illegal he'd been hard pressed to find buyers who could operate quietly, outside of the prying eyes of the law, resulting in a drastic dip in profits.

He'd lost eight of his men in the altercation with the dwarves, but they'd managed to kill all of the dwarves. He grinned. Except for one, of course. She was small, but he was sure he'd find someone willing to pay a lot for a rare dwarven slave. Perhaps he could even find a use for her himself.

He stood up to warm his hands by the fire and felt an odd sensation in the back of his mind, almost as if there were someone else inside him listening to his speculations. Confused, he shook his head, and on the third shake his head was separated from his shoulders.

A horror-comic look of surprise forever etched upon his face, the head flew over the fire in an arc. The slavers jumped to their feet, shouting, for as their leader's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, they beheld a man standing where Reist had been standing just seconds ago.

He was dark-haired and muscular, and he held a dripping red sword. As the blood of their leader slowly dripped from the sword and fell upon the ground, the astonished slavers saw that the sword was not, as they thought at first sight, red from the blood, but the sword itself was a deep crimson. Fear spread across their faces as they saw his eyes, which were cloudy with battle rage.

He lifted his sword. "Today you are unlucky indeed. Only filthy cowards and rats prey on the weak. Take comfort in the fact that I'm kind enough to give you a quicker death than you deserve. Look above, and see what awaits you!"

Cries of terror sounded throughout the camp as the men beheld Thorn, diving from above them and roaring his terrible roar. His teeth flashed in the light as he opened his jaws.

Murtagh laughed bitterly. "Tell whatever gods you meet that you were sent by Murtagh and Thorn, the last of the Free Riders!"

Then he rolled out of the way, quickly uttering the spell that would shield him and the small figure chained to a pine tree from the flames. He grinned as he heard the screaming of the men and smelled burning flesh, but couldn't help feeling sick to his stomach.

The screams quickly subsided, and the slavers were now no more than piles of scorched meat. Thorn landed beside the tree and the small dwarf child, who until that point, even when the men where being burned, had remained almost deathly still, struggled at her bonds. Her eyes were wide with fear and she was whimpering.

The battleblood finally left him, and Murtagh glanced at the child. _I have to calm her down. I can't release her like this, she's apt to either strike me or run away._

He crouched down in front of the child so that he was eye level with her. Her lower lip trembled with terror. He smiled. "It's okay. I'm sorry you had to see that, but they had to die so that I could set you free. I hope it didn't scare you too much. I'm not going to hurt you."

The child stopped struggling and began to talk urgently in rapid Dwarvish. Murtagh grimaced. "I don't understand." He shook his head and shrugged sheepishly to convey the fact that he didn't speak her language.

 _I wonder if I could touch her mind, if only to assure her, through images and emotions, that I mean her no harm._

He reached out, only to find that her consciousness was still surrounded by steel barriers. He was dumbfounded. The girl looked to be at the same stages of development as a five-year-old human child, although since dwarves aged differently than humans, her actual age might be different. It took many years to develop mind-blocking techniques; he found it hard to believe that this tiny girl had already perfected hers. He could always invade her mind and tear away the barriers with the True Name, but he was loath to do so, and promised himself he wouldn't unless the situation was dire.

She was looking at him calmly enough. However, her bright brown eyes were clouded with fear, and he could tell she was still terrified. She kept stealing glances at Thorn, who kept his distance.

Suddenly inspired, he muttered under his breath in the ancient language. The smell of burnt flesh dissipated from the area, and the bodies crumbled and scattered across the ground like dust. Her eyes widened, but he could tell the absence of death comforted her. He quickly reached behind her and untied the ropes holding her to the trunk of the tree.

She solemnly rubbed her wrists but made no move to run, which Murtagh was grateful for. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about the child, but he was nearly certain that she would die on her own. Although if her mind was any indication, she was more capable than he first assumed.

She glanced at him shyly, and pointed at him. Understanding her inquiry, he pointed at himself and said, "Murtagh." Going one step further, he pointed at the dragon and said, "Thorn."

A small smile curved her lips as she pointed at them and repeated their names, then pointed at herself and said "Dahnia."

It was a pretty, musical name for a dwarf, and Murtagh smiled. "Dahnia," he repeated, pointing back at her. She grinned, clapped her hands and giggled. All traces of fear vanishing with the surprising speed that only a child could summon, she leaped at Murtagh from where he remained crouched in front of her. He stiffened with surprise, but relaxed when he realized that she was hugging him around the neck. He gently squeezed in return, and when she released him he was also smiling. He was still uncertain about what he should do about the tiny girl, but one thing was clear as day; they couldn't leave her.

"Dahnia," he said slowly. "I know you can't understand me, but Thorn and I are going to stay with you for a while. We're here to help." He reached his hand out to her, hoping that by his gesture she would understand.

She took it.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

They set up camp in a nearby clearing, a little further out from the Spine. Murtagh led her by the hand, and she followed good-naturally enough. She rapidly chattered away to him in Dwarvish, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he couldn't understand a word she was saying. He didn't mind; at least she seemed unhurt, albeit a little strained around the eyes. Her laughter—she laughed often—had a tired, hysterical quality to it.

Murtagh quickly lit another fire in the middle of the clearing and Thorn curled around it with his tail wrapped around his body like a cat. His eyes and scales glimmered in the firelight.

Murtagh rummaged in the saddlebags, looking for food and a spare blanket for the child. He turned back around and was astonished to see that Dahnia was stroking Thorn's snout. His eyes were half-closed and he hummed.

Murtagh laughed. It was a belly-deep laugh, and suddenly he felt good; better than he had in months, actually. Dahnia turned to him and grinned; saying something in her language, she resumed petting the dragon.

 _She certainly got over her fear quickly,_ Murtagh thought with amusement. He directed his thoughts at Thorn. _Oh, look at you, big, terrible beast._

 _What?_ Thorn asked defensively, athough Murtagh sensed his partner's own amusement.

Murtagh tapped the child on the shoulder, and directed her to where he had laid the blankets where she could sleep. He handed her a waterskin and a loaf of bread, and she ate and drank gratefully. He sat across from Thorn and stared into the fire. Now that the girl was safe, he turned his mind to the unpleasant truth. _She can't stay with us…she needs to be with the dwarves. Maybe she has other family._ He was unsure why the group she was with had been so far from the Beors anyway.

 _It seems to me,_ Thorn said calmly, _that we should stay here for a few days. I'll scout from the air during the day; someone might be looking for her. I see no other option. Do you?_

 _I suppose not._

A gentle snore rose from the blankets; Murtagh whirled around and saw that the child was already deeply asleep. However _,_ a frown creased her face and her eyes moved rapidly under their lids, as if she was seeing something unpleasant in her dreams. _And I wouldn't be surprised, either,_ Murtagh thought. She'd been through enough in the past few days to give a grown man nightmares.

He decided that she would probably sleep through the night, and that he should get some rest himself. He cast spells around the area to keep intruders out, and to alert him if anyone approached. He curled up beside the dragon, and was soon asleep.

When Murtagh awoke, he was shocked to see that Dahnia was already awake. She was patiently sitting by the edge of the blackened remains of the fire, looking up into the sky. Thorn was gone, and Murtagh realized she was looking for him. He smiled and shook his head. When the child saw him, she quickly raced to his saddlebags, rummaged around in it, and brought Murtagh food and water.

"Thank you," he said quickly, and smiled at her. She responded by gazing at him solemnly, and Murtagh sensed an urgency in her eyes. _She wants something,_ he thought. He relit the fire with magic, wondering if that's what she wanted. She didn't seem alarmed by his use of magic; on the contrary, she looked at the fire oddly, as if inspired.

He reached out to Thorn. _Do you see anything?_

 _Good morning to you too,_ Thorn said sarcastically. Murtagh chuckled silently. _No, nothing at all, for leagues and leagues in any direction. Let's give it time before we jump to any conclusions._

 _Of course._ He withdrew from the dragon's mind and focused on the dwarf child, who was tugging at his sleeve. "What is it?" he asked, not expecting any answer. She cleared her throat, pointed at the fire, and said a word in her language. She then pointed back at herself, and then pointed at Murtagh.

Understanding flooded through him. _She wants to communicate, but first she must learn my language._

He pointed at the fire. "Fire," he said clearly. She repeated the word, then jumped up and down with joy and laughed when he nodded.

For the rest of the day, Dahnia raced around the camp, pointing at objects and wanting to know their names. She caught on with uncanny speed, and she would sit and repeat the names to herself many times. Murtagh was certain she wouldn't forget them; she may be only a child, but she was also a dwarf. Their minds worked differently than humans.

Murtagh expected himself to become weary of naming what seemed to be everything in sight, but he didn't; he actually delighted in teaching her. She was almost spookily intelligent, and when he looked upon her struggling with a particularly difficult word or concept, he sat patiently. He knew that she would figure it out fairly quickly.

He kept a steady mental connection with Thorn, who landed shortly before dusk. _I see nothing but deer and trees,_ he said. Murtagh nodded; the slaver's mind hadn't held any additional details about where the child's family had come from and if there might be more of them, but he suspected there was no one left. He swore under his breath, and was shocked when the child repeated his swear word and beamed, looking to be praised.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Murtagh laughed in a way he hadn't for months before meeting the child. He'd been amused, he'd chuckled, he'd even laughed his terrible laugh when he slaughtered the slavers. But this laugh was deep, genuine, healthy. He laughed so hard his sides were searing with pain and tears flowed down his cheeks. Even Thorn chuckled. Dahnia grinned and skipped around in a circle, repeating the word over and over.

 _I should do something._ He tried to stop smiling, but to no avail. It was a few minutes before he succeeded.

"No, Dahnia. You shouldn't say that."

She looked at him puzzlingly. 'No' was one of the words Murtagh had taught her today; she understood the concept, but she couldn't understand why he was telling her no.

She repeated the swear word again. Murtagh shook his head. "No," he said, a little more firmly. Her eyes lit up; she understood. She smiled wide and shook her head. "No," she agreed, and she didn't say the word again.

Throughout the day, he studied her; he was hoping to find out more about her and where she came from. She had slightly frizzy, curly brown hair. Her eyes were odd for a dwarf; whearas most dwarven eyes were dark brown, hers were a bright reddish-brown. She wore a very simple gray dress and no shoes. The only other thing she wore was a silver bracelet around her wrist. It was studded with several chunks of topaz, and although it didn't look valuable he could tell the child adored it. She took a small cloth and spent half an hour polishing it until it shone.

She was warming up to them very quickly—to Thorn in particular; the dragon scarcely had a moment when the child wasn't stroking his scales or attempting to climb up his back—but Murtagh was worried about the look deep in her eyes. Beneath her childish glee and demeanor, there was pain and sorrow buried deep within. Murtagh began to wonder about her group. Just how many dwarves had she seen die? How many friends, family members? Just her parents, or had she had brothers and sisters too? Murtagh knew that, as young as she was, it would still be a long time before the girl completely healed.

It was night again, nearly a full twenty-four hours since they had originally found the girl. She was laying down on her blankets, and although Murtagh wasn't entirely sure, he thought she was asleep. He sat by Thorn's side, stroking his scales.

 _What are we going to do if we can't find the rest of her group; if there ARE any left?_

 _One day at a time,_ Thorn said firmly.

Murtagh lay down beside the dragon, curling up by his foreleg. He closed his eyes and leaned his face against the rough scales. _It's ironic, isn't it? Weren't we just longing for a change of pace?_

Thorn hummed. _It certainly was beyond anything I expected._ His tone softened. _The child is so small; I could swallow her and never have to chew! What kind of world does she have to look forward to? A tiny little thing like that, who will protect her?_

Murtagh gritted his teeth. _We haven't seen much of the world since Galbatorix was overthrown. I learned from the slaver's mind that Nasuada is queen now, and that she and Eragon outlawed slavery. The world is undoubtable a much better place with her in power. And she'll be under Orik's rule; he's a good king._

 _Not even a good leader can erase all the sorrows of the earth,_ Thorn said impatiently. _Look at what happened to her already._

 _I suppose that's true._

Murtagh was drifting off to sleep when he felt something touch his shoulder. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Zar'roc. The sword was halfway out of its sheath before he realized it was Dahnia. He relaxed, then noticed something was wrong. Tears were pouring down her face, and he realized she was close to her breaking point. The thoughts and memories that had been kept at bay during the day had caught up with her at night, and the cloud of grief was close to bursting.

He knew the look well enough. And he knew what to do, how to help her. He gathered the child in his arms and laid her beside Thorn. He gathered her blanket from the ground and heard her begin to cry loud, braying sobs that came from deep within. Thorn lowered his head on his forelegs until his scaly face was directly beside her. She clung to the dragon and cried, while he hummed and tried to comfort her.

Murtagh felt sorrow for the child fill his mind, and although he wanted to do something to help her stop crying, he knew that she needed this period of mourning now. The alternative was grief that she would carry with her for years and years. Dahnia was young enough that possibly she could shed her pain early, if she dealt with it in a healthy way.

He approached the dragon and Thorn lifted his wing. Murtagh obliged, curling up beside the dragon's ribs, and Thorn lowered his wing around the two of them. Murtagh was already asleep when the child's crying began to subside, and she hesitantly moved until she was next to the Rider. His presence calmed her, and she drifted away. She dreamed of pain, of fear, and of a roaring god descending from the heavens, obliterating evil in a stream of holy fire.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Eragon grinned, pleased.

Yesterday, the day after his conversation with Arya, had been very fruitful indeed. A road now led from the top of the cliff down to the forest below. It had been easy enough to construct; a simple spell tilled the earth and leveled it, and the elves, along with Glaedr and the rest of the Eldunari, had provided the strength for the spell. The road was smooth, and delicate vines and flowers entwined around the rocks that regularly dotted the grass beside it; a side effect of the elves' singing, although the plants they had been singing to were much grander than these small flowers.

The cliff top was still mostly bare, but the elves had constructed a stone courtyard and fountain from which sparkling clear water cascaded. Yaela and Rivani, two of the female elves, were currently seated around the fountain. They crooned in the ancient language, their spells delicately engraving symbols and glyphs in the smooth stone. It was a breathtaking sight.

Where the cliff had been bare of little more than grass before, a stone path lead from the east of the courtyard and into a magnificent garden, where five more elves sat, their hands linked. They were singing, and the plants were growing even as Eragon watched. He tried to identify all the species of plants and flowers he saw, but could only name less than half. He smiled; he knew that by the time the sanctuary was completed, the garden would rival those in Elesmera.

It crossed Eragon's mind that they couldn't keep simply calling it, 'the island'- it deserved a proper name. He pondered the matter, and was turning words over in his mind when Saphira landed beside him with a _thud_ that shook the earth. He placed his hand on her side as she inspected the courtyard. He could tell she was also pleased.

 _It will be larger than we thought, I think,_ she said cautiously. _Libraries, living quarters, kitchens, training grounds; this is a good start, but we have much to do._

 _I know._ In a way he welcomed the challenge; it would be something to focus his passions on. He couldn't help thinking of the ancient Vroengaurd; he knew that in the beginning anything that they wrought would pale in comparison to its majesty. He yearned to create a place that would be deemed nearly as beautiful, if not its equal. It would take hundreds of years, if not thousands, to match the grandeur of the ancient city.

He squinted at the sun. _The courtyard is nice, but we can't construct much else until the prisoners get here._

He had contacted Nasuada the previous morning, and she had appeared very relieved when Eragon told her he had accepted her offer. She informed him that she was gathering the prisoners and that they would arrive at the island in the next two weeks.

He was still unsure how he felt about the refuge being built by the labor of prisoners; it would be more appropriate if it was created by himself, the elves, and Eldunari. However, he had reached the conclusion that there simply wasn't enough time. He scowled. _It is what it is,_ he decided. He took comfort in the fact that the prisoners themselves might glean some lost dignity in the knowledge that they were helping the dragons and Riders.

He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that he was so close to the mainland. For a long time before leaving, he'd steeled himself to spending the rest of his life away from those he loved most; apart from Saphira, of course. Although Angela's prophecy still gnawed at his heart, and something about the island didn't sit right with him, he was well on his way to accepting the fact that some things were out of his control.

He sat on a rock and watched Saphira. Her pregnancy had yet to manifest itself much, other than an increased appetite and a fierce protectiveness and devotion that lingered in her mind at all times. She said little about the situation, but Eragon sensed the excitement that tinged her every thought. The elves, too, had been overjoyed; Blodgharm informed them that if they had been less pressed for time and resources, there would have been week-long feasts and celebrations all over Du Weldenvarden.

His eyes drifted over the landscape as he continued to think of the dragon's pact he had changed. _I have changed the course of history in so many ways,_ he thought. If he'd had that thought months before, he might have felt queasy. As it was, he accepted the fact that he'd turned the old order upside down. _All the races, combined into one as Riders…it is as it should be._

A sudden inspiration gripped him. _Of course._ He still didn't know what he should call the island, but it only made sense to incorporate the languages of all the races who would be living there. _A human name for the city-structure, a dwarf name for the mountains, an Urgal name for the forest, and an elven name-the ancient language that binds us all in magic- for the island itself. What do you think, Saphira?_

She sniffed. _A good idea, I suppose, although it doesn't matter either way. Names are powerful things, but I see no reason why you two-legs insist on naming everything from the river you swim in to the horse that plows your field._

He chuckled. _Nevertheless, this place will have a grand standing in the history of us all; and, if I have my way, it'll be around for a very long time._

Saphira hummed. _Little one,_ she said. She abruptly spread her wings. _I promised Blodgharm I would help move the Eldunari and the unbonded eggs today and pick suitable locations for them; will you fly with me first?_

He grinned and leaped upon her back. _Must you ask?_


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Murtagh sighed. _I know you don't like it, Thorn, but we have little choice._

The ruby dragon snarled. _We'll be attacked on sight! Besides, how are we going to transport her all the way to the Beors?_

Murtagh rubbed his temples. _She'll sit in the saddle in front of me; I can either cast spells to prevent her from falling or rig straps that she can hold onto._

 _And what makes you think that we won't cause a war with the dwarves by showing up on their territory unannounced? And who's to say that the dwarves will take her in the first place?_

 _They must. We'll make our way to Farthen Dur; it's best that we speak to Orik first, and let him handle it from there._

 _Again, assuming we aren't attacked!_

 _What choice do we have?_ Murtagh snapped. At that the dragon fell silent. Murtagh rubbed his partner's side. _I didn't mean to get sharp with you. I'm just worried, that's all. There's no guarantee that our presence won't have negative consequences; and I'm nowhere near naïve enough to think that we'll be welcome there. But it's the only option we have._

Thorn's fierce red eyes softened, and he bumped Murtagh lightly on the shoulder with his enormous snout. _I know._ He rumbled lightly in his chest. _It's always an option to keep her with us. I'd be lying if I said I haven't grown fond of the child as of late. She's sweet and kind, and she needs someone large to look after her._

Murtagh had been surprised at the speed at which Thorn and Dahnia had bonded. The dwarf girl was delighted with her new dragon friend, and seemed to regard him with reverence and awe. Since the first night she had slept at Thorn's side, she hadn't slept in any other place. As for Thorn, it never ceased to amaze Murtagh how a fierce creature such as the red dragon had grown to care for another being other than his Rider. Thorn had despised Shruikan and feared Galbatorix, although he often thought of Saphira; even though they had been enemies for most of Thorn's life, he admired her glittering scales, her strong spirit, and her prowess in combat. Actual love or friendship, though, had been reserved only for Murtagh until five days ago, when they first rescued the child.

And Murtagh himself had also developed a fierce protectiveness over her. For the first time in his span as a Rider, here was a person who didn't cower from him in fear, look upon him with hatred, or seek to use him to their advantage. She adored Murtagh and went out of her way to make him laugh. Since they had rescued her, a hole that seemed to gape in his heart almost felt as if it were shrinking. The dark thoughts that gathered in his mind seemed to fizzle and fade away when the tiny girl smiled at him.

He shook his head sadly at Thorn's suggestion. _That isn't an option either. What kind of life could we give her? Always traveling from place to place, no roof over her head, no nice things, no woman around to give her advice as she grows? No children to play with, nothing we can skill her in, no dwarven knowledge whatsoever? No, she deserves to be with her people._

It was a decision that left him feeling a little hollow inside.

Thorn snorted. _We can always wait a few more days, you know._

 _For what? It's been five days. No one is coming._

 _Maybe we should ask her what she wants._

 _She can barely speak our language; in any case, she's only a child. I care about her opinions, yes, but in this case, this is what's best for her._

Thorn didn't answer; he knew that his partner was right, even if he loathed to admit it. He examined a long ivory claw. _In any case, we shouldn't travel south. Too many cities; we'll attract the wrong kind of attention. We should continue north, around the edges of Du Weldenvarden. From there, we can skirt the edges of the Haderac Desert and from there, the Beors._

It was Murtagh's turn to remain silent. The path that Thorn suggested would take at least two weeks; however, he was right. To go south would mean crossing over countless villages and cities. They could avoid them, but it would mean flying at night and many different changes in course. He disliked the idea of being so close to the elven forest, but he decided that if they kept their distance the elves might not retaliate.

He patted Thorn's side and crossed over to the fire, where a haunch of deer was roasting. He turned the spit so the meat would cook evenly, and glanced around for Dahnia. Fear clutched his heart when he didn't see her. He reached out with his mind, not looking for hers exactly, for her mind hadn't lowered its barriers at all since they found her, but for her armored consciousness. He called out for her urgently, and relaxed when he saw her hastily make her way back to the camp from a cluster of trees.

He saw she had something hidden behind her back and a sweet smile plastered across her face. He grinned in return and placed a hand on his hip. "What are you hiding?" he asked with mock suspicion. She giggled, and whipped from behind her back a delicate yellow flower on a long green stem. She pressed it into Murtagh's hands.

He was touched. "Thank you, Dahnia," he said.

"No," she said sincerely. "Thank you. Murtagh save Dahnia. Murtagh and pretty Thorn." Her voice lacked the rough, gutteral quality of full-grown dwarves, but it was still a physical effort for her to pronounce some of the words. Her vocabulary had grown at a remarkable pace, and Murtagh usually (if not always) could understand what she was saying. It crossed his mind that it was easier for small children to learn a foreign language than adults, and he wouldn't be surprised if she was speaking his language fluently by the time they reached the Beors.

"You're very welcome," he told the girl. She grinned and skipped in a circle around the fire, occasionally stopping to throw rocks in it. Murtagh smirked at the red dragon. _Would you like a flower too, pretty Thorn?_

 _Shut up,_ the dragon advised, unperturbed. He flicked his tail. _Jealousy is unbecoming of you. Of course, so is your face. I might be jealous too, if I was as ugly as you._

Murtagh cackled, and Thorn chuckled along with him. It occurred to Murtagh that the two of them were in lighter spirits than they'd ever been. Dahnia glanced at them, curious. She remained that way for several minutes, gazing at them intently, and Murtagh knew from experience that she was trying to puzzle something out.

Sure enough, she walked over to Murtagh and glanced from him to Thorn and back. She hesitated and said, "How do that?" She shook her head and tried again. "How.,.how talk, Murtagh and Thorn?"

Murtagh was about to ask how she came to the conclusion that he and Thorn talked at all, then decided it was pretty obvious- from glances, unprompted expressions and actions- that the two of them communicated.

"Well…" It was his turn to hesitate. He pointed at his skull. "Minds," he said finally. "Thorn's voice is in here."

She beamed. "Can Thorn talk Dahnia?" she asked.

He was dumbfounded. Did she not know she was shielding her mind? He shook his head. "Dahnia's…your…mind is shielded. Thorn can't feel it, to talk. Neither can I," he added almost as an afterthought.

The child giggled. Murtagh frowned. What was so funny? She was snickering, and a devilish light flickered in her eyes, as though she were hiding something.

"Sorry," she giggled. She struggled to think of the right word. "Forgot."

Then she took off her silver and topaz bracelet and suddenly the walls surrounding her mind crumbled. Murtagh could feel her consciousness pressing against his, although he avoided delving into it; minds, even that of a child, were personal. After having his constantly violated by the Galbatorix, he had developed a new sanctity for privacy. However, it was impossible not to feel the emotions that she suddenly thrust upon him; deep, sincere gratitude for her rescue and the kindness he had shown her, a blind devotion to, and admiration of, Thorn, the eagerness she felt to fully master Murtagh's speech, and the sorrow, on its way to being healed but still there, that underlay her every thought.

She must have been exposed to having another person touch her mind and read her emotions, as well as communicating with them, because she didn't shy away and she seemed perfectly aware of Murtagh's consciousness as well. Murtagh found that odd; most people were unaware that someone was touching their mind. He wondered if she could use magic, and decided she probably couldn't. If she could, she could have easily escaped from the slavers.

Closing his eyes, he summoned an image of her bracelet, with an inquiring thought. She sent him another image, this one of a dwarven woman-whether it was her mother or not he didn't know, nor did he ask- giving her the bracelet for her last birthday. From the emotions he felt from her mind, he assumed it was embodied with a spell that somehow shielded her mind for her. He was curious; he'd never heard of such a spell. He assumed that the energy fueling the spell must be contained in the topaz in her bracelet. He was unsure why such a valuable spell had been placed upon the girl's bracelet; did she have something to hide?

He considered asking about her family; where she came from and why they had been so far from home; but decided against it. The information was useless and would only increase her pain to think about it.

He withdrew contact from her, and she stood there, shuffling her bare feet and staring at them. A random thought,

(I should make her some shoes)

crossed his mind and he decided to do just that later. She looked up at him and then pointed from herself to Thorn.

 _Do you mind?_ He asked Thorn.

 _Of course not._

Murtagh nodded and the child beamed. She tucked the bracelet into a pocket on her dress and raced to Thorn's side, where she sat on his foreleg and began to talk to him. Since Thorn's wild ancestors had communicated nearly completely in emotions and images, he had no problem understanding her. Linked as he was with Thorn, Murtagh gleaned a lot of their conversation's meaning. She was curious about the dragons; she had never seen one before, nor been told of them. _It seems to me,_ Thorn remarked to Murtagh, _that she's been cut off from the outside world; she knew nothing of the war, or the Riders. Maybe it's because she's very young, but I don't know._

 _I don't either. It's strange, though._

Thorn began to tell her tales of the Riders, and of the war with Galbatorix and how it was won. He left out most of the unpleasant details, (such as their torture and imprisonment by the king, as well as how they had been forced to serve them) although he didn't conceal from her the battle with Shruikan, and how he and Saphira had helped to kill him. Her eyes sparkled when she learned that there was more than one dragon.

Murtagh left them to their conversation, smiling and shaking his head. Her enthusiasm was catching; she was delighted that she could communicate with the dragon. He supposed it was fine for her to talk as such to Thorn, but he would have to continue teaching her his language; touching minds was too intimate, and she couldn't rely on it as her only form of communication.

He frowned as he realized that soon they would have to leave for the Beors, and that he hadn't told the child yet. He took a drink of water, suddenly worried. He wondered how she would react.

He walked over to the pair and stood beside the girl. "Dahnia," he said. "Come here, I have to talk to you."

He could tell she only understood a handful of the words he said, but his gesture was clear enough and she followed him. He seated her on a log by the fire and crouched in front of her. Her bright brown eyes met his.

He sighed, deciding that she didn't know enough words for her to fully understand what he thought was best for her and what his reasoning was. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner and tapped his forehead, then tapped hers. "Talk?" he asked.

She nodded. Her eyes were wary, and he could tell that his concern was showing in his face. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and began to show her, one by one, images and flashes of thought, hoping that she would understand.

When he withdrew, there were tears in her eyes. "No," she said softly, although her eyes were defeated. He had succeeded; she understood. "No, Dahnia stay, no want go-"

He hugged her. He knew it was foolish to show her any sort of affection, not when she was barely getting over her grief; it would only make it that much harder for her to accept the fact that she didn't belong with them. But he couldn't help it. He swore silently. He didn't want her to go any more than she did; but it was necessary. _She deserves better than anything Thorn or I could give her._

"It'll be awhile before we get there, Dahnia. Not soon," he said as he relinquished the hug. She dried her tears and offered a small smile in return.

"No soon?" she said hopefully.

"That's right," he said. He stood up and began packing everything into Thorn's saddlebags. "We have to leave today though, cover some ground."

"Cover some ground," she repeated, mystified.

Murtagh grinned. He gestured towards the blankets and other items. "Yep. Come on, help me pack this, then I'll show you how we'll be traveling. I'm not sure if you'll hate it or love it." As far as he knew, no dwarf had ever ridden a dragon before. _This should be interesting._


End file.
